


so far away

by sodelicate



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Ambiguous Illness, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Bros supporting bros, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Deathfic, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, The 5 Stages of Grief, bros-turned-roommates, but with a happy-ish ending, it's sad and sad and even more sad, it's up to ur imagination, mentioned iwaoi and bokuaka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 00:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16799947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodelicate/pseuds/sodelicate
Summary: "Kuroo already has envisioned his ‘happily ever after’ with Kenma, all down to the tiniest detail of who will take which side of the bed, who will cook and who will clean up afterwards, and so on and so forth. It’s the perfectly, wonderfully domestic ‘happily ever after’ he wants and is gonna get.Or that’s what he thinks.But Kenma falls gravely sick, and soon Kuroo will learn that not everyone gets a ‘happily ever after’, no matter how much they try to wish it into existence."In which Kuroo loses Kenma and has to learn to live without him. Lucky for him, he has so much love around him and bros who support him through it all.





	so far away

**Author's Note:**

> this one is based [ on a request i got on tumblr!](https://hqissodelicate.tumblr.com/post/180679643967/kuroken-oh-love-how-i-miss-you-every-single%22) the request was for KuroKen with the lyrics "Oh, love, how I miss you every single day when I see you on those streets. Oh, love, tell me there's a river I can swim that will bring you back to me." the song is ['so far away'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o7iL2KzDh38) by Martin Garrix & David Guetta ft Jamie Scott & Romy Dya.

It should go without saying that Kuroo loves Kenma very, very much. He has ever since they were shy, awkward kids hiding behind their respective parents, and he’s only fallen deeper as each day passes. It’s just so natural, falling in love with your childhood best friend. In fact, some people worry he’s putting all his emotional eggs in one quiet, introverted basket. But he has never cared much about what others think — he loves Kenma, and that’s that.

He even has their whole future together planned out at the tender, wide-eyed age of nineteen. Upon graduation from high school, Kenma will move into the apartment he has near his college, and Kenma will pursue a degree in game design (or put in minimal effort to attain the degree, as is more his style) while Kuroo will continue towards his degree in chemical engineering. Then they’ll get jobs in their respective fields and — if the laws change — get married. If not, there’s always the option of getting a citizenship in a country where they can get married in, and hold the ceremony there.

Honestly, he doesn’t think they _need_ a marriage, but it’ll definitely be a nice touch. With or without vows, he knows he loves Kenma and Kenma loves him, and they’ll have their whole lives together to love one another.

Yes, as you can see, Kuroo already has envisioned his ‘happily ever after’ with Kenma, all down to the tiniest detail of who will take which side of the bed, who will cook and who will clean up afterwards, and so on and so forth. It’s the perfectly, wonderfully domestic ‘happily ever after’ he wants and is gonna get.

Or that’s what he thinks.

But Kenma falls gravely sick, and soon Kuroo will learn that not everyone gets a ‘happily ever after’, no matter how much they try to wish it into existence.

* * *

**Stage 1: denial**

“Okay, take a five-minute water break!” the coach calls after blowing his whistle to signal the end of the first half of practice.

Kuroo, sweaty from the vigorous practice (he can’t believe how much more vigorous college volleyball is than high school volleyball), saunters to his bag. As he takes a long swig of water, he casually fishes out his phone from his bag and switches it on. Huh, looks like he’s got a message. He reads it—

Oh.

_Wait, what the fuck?!_

Unable to believe what he’s reading, he scans the message again and again, from the top to the bottom, and from the bottom to the top. He needs desperately to verify that he’s reading it correctly, because, _fuck,_ this cannot be happening.

His phone screen goes black due to the inactivity, and Kuroo’s left standing there in the gym, feeling like the blood in his veins has frozen over, or like a truck rammed into his gut and knocked all the wind out of it.

 _No, no, no, there has to be a mistake,_ he tells himself firmly. _Everything’s fine. You were just there last night, and everything was fine. Things can’t go so wrong in, like, just twelve hours._

“Tetsu-chan, what’s wrong?” the first-string setter, Oikawa, approaches him, concern marring his pretty features.

Still feeling numb, Kuroo hands his phone to Oikawa. “Oikawa, tell me — what does it say? I read it wrong, right? Oh my god, Oikawa, please tell me I’m just delusional or my eyesight is failing me.”

“Uh, sure,” Oikawa says. “It says here you got a text from your boyfriend’s father, and he says — oh. Oh my god, I’m so… I’m so sorry, Tetsu. I really am.”

“What — what do you mean?” Kuroo stammers. “It’s not — it can’t be happening. Please, tell me this isn’t happening, Oikawa.”

Oikawa shakes his head sadly. “I’m so sorry, Tetsu-chan, but he… his father said he didn’t make it.”

“He’s got to be lying,” Kuroo pleads. He isn’t sure who he’s begging, but he sure as hell knows he’s begging for someone to tell him this is just some frightfully realistic nightmare. “Please, I can’t lose him. I — I just saw him _last night_ , Oikawa! He was fine! Well, not _completely_ fine, but he wasn’t — I have to see him. Please, I can't—” His voice cracks towards the end of the sentence, and his vision blurs with desperate tears.

“I’ll go talk to the coach,” Oikawa says soothingly. “Just sit here, okay? I’ll ask Coach if I can drive you to the hospital.”

“Okay, thanks.” Kuroo sinks to the ground and presses his face between his raised knees, desperately fighting back horrified tears. He can’t — dear god, please not Kenma. Anyone but his Kenma, his boyfriend, the love of his life. _Please._

His teammates come over and ask him what’s up, but he can’t find the energy to raise his head to address them. Instead, he just wordlessly hands them his phone. After they read the ~~lie~~ text message, they offer stuff that sound vaguely like condolences and apologies. But why? Kuroo refuses to believe it. He’s majoring in chemical engineering, and one of the first rules of science is not to believe anything anyone tells you before confirming it yourself. And so, he won’t believe this until he’s gone and seen that Kenma is fine for himself. Because he has to be. He just saw Kenma last night, small and gaunt but definitely alive in the hospital bed.

“Tetsu-chan,” Oikawa’s voice floats down vaguely from somewhere in front of him. “The coach gave the green light. Come, I’ll take you there.”

Kuroo shakily pushes himself to his feet. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t mention it. Let’s go.”

Kuroo numbly follows Oikawa out, firmly avoiding the pitying looks everyone sends his way. He doesn’t need it. He’s sure everything is fine, just as it was last night, just as it will be… right?

They remain quiet throughout the too-long drive to the hospital. Oikawa briefly breaks the silence to ask how he’s holding up, to which Kuroo replies with a shrug that he himself doesn’t know means what. With clammy and shaky hands, he reads the text message again and again. The words don’t fully register in his mind; it’s like they’re refusing to go into his brain, even.

It’s just as well, Kuroo supposes. If ever comes a time when the words finally click in his brain, he isn’t sure if he can handle that without just shattering there and then.

* * *

**Stage 2: anger**

In the end, however, Oikawa ends up driving Kuroo back to his apartment. The receptionist refused to let them see Kenma because they were busy ‘clearing his body’ or some bullshit excuse like that. Kuroo nearly got into a shouting match with the receptionist, if it weren’t for Oikawa forcefully dragging him to the car park and dragging him back home.

Kuroo’s hands are trembling so badly from the effort of keeping himself from falling apart, so Oikawa takes his keys and helps him open the door. He stumbles in, and Oikawa follows him in, shutting the door behind them. Kuroo’s not sure why the setter is here when his apartment is upstairs, but he’s grateful for his presence. He doesn’t think he can handle being alone right now, in this apartment that’s suddenly become too big and empty, everything muted and dull.

 _But why?_ It’s not like Kenma had ever occupied the apartment with him, seeing as it’s quite a ways from Nekoma High School.

_I never had the chance to live with Kenma._

And that’s when the rage and hurt becomes too much for him to keep bottled up.

“Fuck, _fuck!_ ” Kuroo curses as he kicks the coffee table, jolting several empty plastic cups and takeaway boxes off it. “I could’ve seen — I wanted to see him. Just one more time, is that too fucking much to ask for?”

“I know, Tetsu, I know,” Oikawa says soothingly. “I’m so sorry.”

Hot tears slide down Kuroo’s face as he punches the wall. Pain explodes across his knuckles, but compared to the storm raging inside him it feels like aloe vera on a nasty burn. “Why? Why did _he_ have to die? Why didn’t they save him — the doctors, why didn’t they? It is _literally_ their job as doctors to save people — yet the one time it actually mattered, they didn’t. They just let Kenma die. Medical professionals, my ass they are!”

“That’s not fair, Tetsu,” Oikawa says, a little sharper this time. “They tried their best—”

“Oh, _really?_ ” Kuroo seethes. He slams his bruised fist against the wall again for good measure. “If they _really_ tried their best, he wouldn’t be dead, would he?”

“It’s not — you know what, never mind.” Oikawa walks over and firmly grabs Kuroo’s forearm just as he’s about to punch the wall again. “Look, I’m sorry — I truly am — for what happened. A loss like that, it must be horrible—”

Kuroo fruitlessly tries to yank his arm out of Oikawa’ hold. “Like fuck you’d know. Your Iwa-chan is still healthy and happy and alive, isn’t he? You don’t — you couldn’t possibly understand what I’m going through.”

Oikawa lets out a sigh that sounds like he’s gearing up for an argument, but instead he just says in an even tone, “You’re right, I don’t. But regardless of whether I understand or not, that doesn’t change the fact that I’m here for you. I’m gonna make some tea, what would you like?”

“Don’t know, whatever,” Kuroo mutters.

“Hmm, okay, I’ll see what I can make with whatever’s in your paltry kitchen. Try not to punch a hole in the wall while I’m not there to reign in your temper.”

When Oikawa bustles off into the kitchen, Kuroo crumples onto the sofa, feeling absolutely defeated. He presses two cushions against his ears to try and block the rest of the world. Everything has suddenly gone from eerily muted to harshly overwhelming, and it’s too much to take.

Kenma. Kenma always had this knack of balancing out the rest of the world, making everything tolerable. But now that he’s not here — and god knows where instead — Kuroo’s senses are amplified, oversensitive, overstimulated, and he wants nothing more than to scream everything out and to stop feeling, even for just a fleeting moment.

* * *

**Stage 3: bargaining**

Kuroo, dressed in his best black suit, shakily makes his way to the front of the congregation to deliver the eulogy he wrote last night. He pauses and surveys the congregation gathered — Nekoma’s team and alumni are here, and so is the rest of the Fukurodani Academy Group, and Karasuno, Kenma’s classmates and other assorted family and friends. Everyone is here for Kenma, Kenma who is the only one not here.

He sucks in a breath to calm himself down. It’s going to be — well, not exactly fine, but he rehearsed this. He can deliver this without having another breakdown.

Kuroo tries for a wry grin as he begins his eulogy. “You probably won’t believe me when I say this, but I was actually shyer than Kenma was when we first met as kids, all those years ago. Like, _way_ shyer like you wouldn’t believe.”

This draws several chuckles from the crowd. Tall, confident, smooth Kuroo Tetsurou, once upon a time even more withdrawn than his already-withdrawn boyfriend? It was something you had to be there to witness to believe it. Kuroo remembers it like it was just yesterday, and the warmth of the memory gives him the strength to continue with the speech.

He’s making good progress, so far — until a particularly loud sob startles him. He glances up from his script and spots Karasuno’s chibi-chan, seated right smack in the middle of the congregation, sobbing into his scary setter’s shoulder. It’s such a strange — almost surreal — sight; Hinata Shouyou, from what Kuroo knows and what Kenma told him, is more than a ray of sunshine. He’s like the sun itself: bright, cheerful and endlessly optimistic. After Kuroo, he was the firmest believer that Kenma _would_ get better, and that there was always enough time for him to recover and return to volleyball. That bright, sunny optimism was what kept Kuroo going when even he felt like things were never going to get better.

But Kuroo has never seen the sun go dull and blue with grief until now — the sight breaks him.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo chokes out, feeling his throat constrict, making breathing a near-insurmountable task. “I’m so sorry. It isn’t — it’s never enough time. It’s always never enough time. He…” His hands gripping the script like a lifeline tremble. The memory hurts, but he has to say it, put it into words. “He actually tried talking to me about it — like, what if… what if he didn’t make it. He wanted to make plans, and he even told me I could move on to someone else if he didn’t make it — but I didn’t want to. I _couldn’t_. I—”

He didn’t want to think about it, that’s why. He didn’t want to think about a life without Kenma, it was too painful to even fathom. He told himself there was always time to talk about it another time, another time when the idea would hurt less. Next time, and next time, and the next time after that because he was too much of a coward to face it in the present and enough of an idiot to think that time would always be on his side.

But that’s the thing about life and death, isn’t it? You always think you have enough time, until you suddenly don’t anymore.

He can’t go on, not like this. He’s riddled with regrets and “should-have”s — he should’ve talked to Kenma about it when he had the time, he should’ve visited Kenma more, he should’ve told him “I love you” more.

A hand gently places itself on his shoulder. He blinks back another wave of tears and turns around to face Akaashi. His face is somber but composed.

“Please take a seat, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi says. “I’ll read the rest of the eulogy for you.”

Kuroo wordlessly nods and returns his seat at the front row. His father wraps an arm around his shoulder. Kuroo sinks down lower in his seat to rest his head against his father’s shoulder.

If only he had detected there was something wrong earlier, if he had visited Kenma more, if he had listened to Kenma more — maybe this is the universe’s way of punishing him for not doing all that.

 _Please,_ Kuroo begs to any higher spirit or deity. _I would do anything to have him back. Cross any river, any sea, any mountain, I don’t care. Please, don’t leave me alone without my Kenma._

He returns to an empty apartment after the wake with an even emptier heart.

* * *

**Stage 4: depression**

It’s hard to move on when everything in the goddamn world reminds you of the person you lost. And considering that Kenma was pretty much Kuroo’s entire world, it goes without saying thing that everything he sees, hears and smells reminds him of Kenma.

Walking past a gaming store with the new Monster Hunter game on display? Kenma.

Walking past a calico cat meowing at him? Kenma.

Walking past bright-eyed, happy, utterly in-love couples on his way back to his apartment? Kenma.

He misses him so much, it’s like there’s an empty chasm in his heart where there was once so much life and joy. He knows he probably shouldn’t, ‘cause he wants to be moving on, but he keeps reading and re-reading their old text conversations. That’s a cat GIF he sent to Kenma two months ago after the first round of failed treatment to try and cheer him up. That’s a salt-bae meme Kenma sent to him to illustrate how done he was with Kuroo’s teasing. And that’s a short essay he wrote to Kenma on their third anniversary five months ago, detailing every big and little reason why he’s so hopelessly in love with him.

After that, when the pain of looking back on old memories becomes too much, he buries his face between his pillows, hoping that it’ll muffle his cries as he tries to sleep. He would really like to sleep. In his sleep is the only time he isn’t in unbearable pain, after all.

(Some nights, he doesn’t cry. Not because he has healed — he hasn’t, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever stop hurting — but because it’s just… so exhausting. Grieving Kenma is exhausting. Loving him was never this exhausting.)

He takes a week off from school to grieve, and his classmates have kindly offered to help him catch up on the classes he’s missed.

During the week, different people visit him. His most frequent visitor is none other than Oikawa, since he lives right upstairs anyway, but Bokuto, Yaku, Kai and occasionally Akaashi drop by most days to check on him. Each of them brings their own ‘help-Kuroo-get-over-his-dead-boyfriend’ kit — Oikawa brings an unhealthy amount of snacks and warm cocoa in a thermos; Yaku brings blankets and stuffed toys because he’s a mother cat like that, while Kai brings his gentle smile and relaxing presence; Bokuto brings a collection of movies — horror, comedy, crime mysteries, anything but romance, really — and sometimes Akaashi, who in turn brings some herbal tea thing he says his grandmother claims helps with the grieving process.

Everyone is so nice. He’s grateful that even in a world without Kenma, there’s still kindness and love, when before that he could only see everything in emptiness and greyscale.

Then that week passes, and he has to return to his life. To his appreciation, no one asks him about what happened other than his professors briefly offering their condolences. He buries himself in the essays and projects he has to do. Damn, he really has a lot to catch up on. College is brutal.

But a part of him is thankful for the massive workload. If he doesn’t keep himself occupied, he might end up thinking about things — and that always eventually leads to thinking about Kenma, and the pain he’s managed to temporarily bury away would return in full force.

Spoiler alert: it does.

He’s walking back from the campus to his apartment after his last lecture of the day. He could take a bus, but it isn’t that long a walk — maybe fifteen minutes since he’s strolling at a rather languid pace. And he doesn’t think he can deal with so many people around him, pressing into him and getting into his space on public transport. 

It’s a quiet and peaceful walk, which is good because he’s just so tired. Even if he had a good night’s sleep last night, the first night since Kenma’s passing, it’s just… it’s been a long day, alright? So at this point, he’s operating pretty much on muscle memory. Left foot, right foot, turn left, and keep going straight. Rinse and repeat.

As he’s trudging down the street, he walks past a bakery. He pauses, the sweet and savory smells alluring him, and sees several apple pies in the display window.

_Apple pies. He’d like some._

Completely out of force of habit, he mechanically enters the bakery, picks up an apple pie and takes it to the register to pay for it. The cashier smiles at him and wishes him a nice day, and he vaguely hears himself say something similar in reply.

Damn, the apple pie smells amazing. He can’t wait to get home and give it to—

Then it hits him.

_I can’t. He’s not here._

And that’s what causes him to _completely_ lose it.

The plastic bag slips through his shaking fingers, crashing onto the ground as heavy as a realisation, and Kuroo switches to autopilot. His feet take him somewhere far from the dropped apple pie and the bakery, further down the street, as tears cascade down relentlessly. His body makes a sharp turn and he collapses into a narrow, quiet alley. He wraps his arms around his knees, presses his forehead against his knees and just sobs.

The thing about loving Kenma was that it came as easily and naturally, pretty much reflexively, as breathing. Just like how Kuroo can’t fathom a world without oxygen, he couldn’t fathom a world without Kenma.

And now that Kenma is no longer here, it feels — not quite like air has suddenly been cut off from his lungs, but rather like someone has stolen his lungs all together. He can’t breathe, he can barely think — all that’s going through his mind is that Kenma’s gone, he’s not here and Kuroo doesn’t know if he’s going to ever be able to breathe again.

 _Fuck_. And he thought he was finally making some sort of progress. He thought the knowledge that Kenma wasn’t here anymore had already sunk in and he accepted it, he really thought that. More frustrated tears slide down. Is this how this whole fucking ordeal is gonna be? One step forward, ten steps backwards?

Oh shit, he _really_ can’t breathe.

“Kuroo? What are you doing here?”

Kuroo sharply looks up, gasping for air, and he sees Yaku standing there in front of him. He’s holding the abandoned plastic bag of apple pie.

“I, uh — I really don’t know,” Kuroo mutters. His head hurts too much to think, but seeing Yaku’s familiar silhouette somehow makes breathing slightly easier. “I was — I bought that, but I — I just freaked out, I guess, and I ended up here.”

Yaku sighs softly. “Do you think you can get home safely on your own?”

Kuroo pauses to think. No… he really doesn’t think he should be alone right now. He shakes his head.

“Okay, then,” Yaku says with a decisive nod. “My place is, like, right over here, so you can spend the night if you’d like to.”

That sounds like a good idea. Kuroo decides to let Yaku take control of the situation, so he nods. “Yeah, cool. Thanks, Yakkun.”

“Don’t mention it. Come, you shouldn’t be hanging around in dingy alleys anymore.”

As they’re walking to Yaku’s apartment, Yaku briskly makes plans for dinner, informs Kuroo that he can have his roommate’s room since the guy’s in Hokkaido for something or another (Kuroo’s finding it a little hard to concentrate) and he can borrow the roommate’s clothes, since Kuroo obviously can’t fit into Yaku’s.

Yaku is a good host. It’s like he was born to take care of others, truly like a mother cat, and if Kuroo were in a better mood he would tease him about it. He makes dinner for the both of them (two bowls of salmon egg-fried rice) and only breaks the peaceful silence between them to ask if Kuroo wants seconds (he doesn’t, but he appreciates the thought). The silence calms him down, and now that he’s in a safe place and not alone, he finds it a lot easier to breathe. Yaku must have picked up on this, somehow. It’s like he always knows the right things to do and say to calm people down. Kuroo doesn’t know what the trick is — he only knows what to say to provoke people into doing what he wants — but he’s relieved that Yaku just _gets_ him without him having to actually say anything.

Later that night, Kuroo crashes in Yaku’s bedroom on a spare futon, because he doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts in a dark room. Yaku just rolls his eyes and mutters something about ‘clingy’, but he doesn’t kick Kuroo out of his room, which he takes as a good thing.

“Yo, Yaku,” Kuroo drawls sleepily. “Thanks for… just everything, man.”

“I already said it earlier, you don’t have to mention it,” Yaku replies. “As long as you feel better.”

For the first time in weeks, Kuroo finally believes he can.

* * *

**Stage 5: acceptance**

_Hey Kenma,_

_So. I still really fucking miss you. I don’t think it’s something that’s ever going to change, no matter how much time passes. But… I think it’s something I’m coming to terms with. Sometimes, I think about what I’d do to bring you back to me. The only thing I wouldn’t do is intentionally take my life — I know you’d get mad at me if I tried pulling some shit like that. You’d kick my ass. No, scratch that, Yaku would do that. You’d just pout at me or something. Anyway—_

The sound of an elephant slamming into the apartment complex interrupts his train of thought. He just sighs wearily, puts his pen down and yells, “Oi Bo, mind keeping it the fuck down? I’m trying to write something important here!”

“SORRY!” Bokuto shouts in reply.

Kuroo stifles a sigh. Ever since Bokuto moved himself into Kuroo’s apartment (they never talked about it; it just… happened, as it does with Bokuto Koutarou), he’s been getting more complaints from his neighbours, especially Oikawa, about all the racket. Seriously, Bokuto can make preparing a salad sound louder than a rock concert.

Well, clearly writing in his journal of letters to Kenma is a no-go now that his noisy roommate is back. Best to go and see what the hell he’s up to, before he breaks something.

Bokuto grins when he spots Kuroo. “Ah, great timing! I just got a text from a girl in my stats class — she, uh, thinks you’re cute and would like to grab coffee with you. Thoughts?”

Kuroo stifles the urge to sigh again. This has been a thing that’s been going for a while now. Bokuto or someone else in his social circle would try and set him up with someone, which he’s gradually starting to tire of. Don’t get him wrong, he appreciates the thought. They just want to help him move on; it’s been over half a year, after all. And — he really tries, okay? Even though his interest in dating — dating anyone who isn’t Kenma — can’t get any more zero than it already is, he gives them a chance. The most dates he’s ever gone on with anyone since Kenma is five, which _far_ exceeds his expectations.

Kuroo shakes his head. “Nah, man. Thanks for the thought, but just — no. I can’t.”

Bokuto frowns slightly. “You sure? She’s really nice and cute, I guess. I wouldn’t know, I’m strictly Akaashi-sexual, but you sure you don’t want to see her at least once? It’s not like she wants marriage or kids or anything, she just wants to get to know you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Look, Bo, I’ve tried — _really_ tried — this whole dating-again thing, and it’s just — it’s not the same. It’s not the same as Kenma.”

“Of course it’s not gonna be the same as Kenma, man,” Bokuto says, his expression softening. “Kenma… well, he really was the one for you. All of us could see that. But that don’t mean you can’t at least be somewhat happy with someone else, even if it isn’t exactly the same as Kenma.”

Kuroo considers this. Yeah, he _is_ a romantic who believes in true soulmates and that Kenma’s his true soulmate, but maybe he can… no. He shakes his head again and explains, “I get what you’re trying to say, but I can’t, not in good faith. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve experienced some attraction to the people you guys have set me up with, but it’s always a shallow and fleeting interest. And I don’t want to settle for second-best, y’know?”

“But you always cut them off after, like, five dates at most, so obviously you wouldn’t see if that interest becomes anything deeper,” Bokuto points out in a rare display of logic. “It’s not fair, man.”

Kuroo winces guiltily. “Yeah, I know that. But I do that ‘cause I know that at the back of my mind, I’d be comparing them to Kenma. And _that’s_ definitely not fair to the person I’d be trying to date, ‘cause the comparison would never be in their favour. Kenma… he’s the best thing that ever happened to me, and I doubt anyone else would be able to top that. Hm, maybe I’ll just stay celibate for the rest of my life,” he adds as an afterthought.

Bokuto — _Bokuto_ , folks — rolls his eyes at Kuroo. “Dude, calm the heck down, you’re only, what, nineteen? There’s still a whole lot of life left, so chill out with the whole ‘rest of your life’ thing. That’s what Akaashi tells me when I get sad and think I’m gonna be a loser for the rest of my life, so yeah, keep an open mind. You never know what could happen.”

Kuroo looks at him, all serious, and says simply, “Yeah. I know.” Because he does. Call him a hopeless all-or-nothing sap, but he doesn’t want to settle for someone who can’t even hold a candle to Kenma. It wouldn’t be fair to Kenma’s memory, if he moved on to someone who couldn’t make him as happy as Kenma did.

Bokuto shrugs. “At the end of the day, it’s your life, so you gotta do you. As long as you’re happy! You still sad about it, man?”

Kuroo pauses to consider this. He still remembers how utterly destroyed he felt when the news of Kenma’s passing first sunk in, and how he thought he’d never be happy again, how he’d never be able to even breathe again.

Yet here he is. The pain — well, it’s not fully gone. He doesn’t think it will ever fully go away, but now it’s less of an aching pain and more of a bittersweet pain. When he looks at old conversations between him and Kenma and photos of them, instead of feeling that agony that once threatened to crush him, he feels an odd mixture of sadness, longing and also happiness at the memories. Those memories, the ones of him and Kenma so wrapped up in love with one another — as much as it sometimes (oftentimes) hurts to think about them, they no longer threaten to choke him. Rather, they fill him with a hard-earned strength and warmth he never knew possible. He loved Kenma so much then, with everything he had, and he loves Kenma so much now with everything he has, regardless of life and death.

And he will continue to love Kenma. Just like how he will continue to love Kenma, so will he continue breathing. He just has to keep breathing, and one day for sure, he will see his love again.

**Author's Note:**

> while i based Kuroo’s grieving process on [Ross and Kessler’s 5 stages of grief,](https://grief.com/the-five-stages-of-grief/) not everyone goes through grief in ‘sequence’ or all 5 stages of grief. the 5 stages of grief should be seen as a general guideline and not as a hard and fast rule. Kuroo’s grief is just a textbook example of grieving. everyone's grieving process is different, so the way Kuroo grieves might not be the way you or I grieve and that's fine.
> 
> man, angst really hurt to write. please send me fluffier requests on my [tumblr!](https://hqissodelicate.tumblr.com/)
> 
> thanks for braving through the pain and reading! :D


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